


Safe and Sound

by LiAtlas



Series: Shockwave [1]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, And anything else I want really., Angst, F/M, Fluff, Realism, Sugar and spice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:18:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8923891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiAtlas/pseuds/LiAtlas
Summary: When Amelia moves to England, her intent is to better herself, to move forward in life. After a hard start she might finally be making something of the dreams she's never let go of. The last thing she needs is an unknown variable to come in and distract her from those goals - even if he does make her smile.





	1. Cold.

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm going to try this Real Person Fiction thing again? I know I owe some people a sequel to "A Girl Called Passion," but I honestly don't think it's going to happen. I don't have the motivation anymore :/ Let's see if I can not make a fool of myself with this one, because I'm just awkward with this kind of thing lol
> 
> This is an AU but I'm still going to try and be as respectful to character as possible? Any potential Trigger's/Mature situation's will be labeled at the top of the chapters so _please_ pay attention! This story will follow a mixture of AGCP's style and my typical storybook format. You can also find this on WattPad :)
> 
> (ps. I did not beta this nasty thing)

Cold.

The air condensed into wispy clouds as I exhaled deeply, gripping the book between my legs a little tighter.

London was _cold_ , cold in a way that was I familiar with yet unaccustomed to. This kind of cold _lasted_ , it stretched into so many months that before I knew it the year was almost over, and I was still cold. Some months earlier I had come upon a flannel scarf that seemed to have taken permanent residence around my neck, draping lavishly over shivering shoulders as my teeth clenched. Mr. Cozy, as I came to call him, wandered by with a damp cloth, leaning over the table to inspect what was left of my coffee.

I never got a normal cup, always the to-go; my visits were too flighty and unpredictable to know how long I would really stay. This afternoon was the exception in that I booked a specific frame of time with the sitter in order to finish a particularly large homework assignment. It was nearly sixty percent of the final grade and had taken me over three months to put together. Finally. Now I sat tired and mentally drained, almost four hours later from leaving class. My bottom was all but frozen to the seat and my fingers were so numb I doubted I would remember how to feel for a week.

All of that was okay, because it was over, done, finished. I could hide all of my pencils and school books for the next six weeks until spring semester started.

“You gonna wanna refill on that honey?” Mr. Cozy interrupted these thoughts, his too high voice reeling me back to the present. His washcloth had made the table-top sticky where there were no papers to hide it; I smiled, shaking my head.

“No, I think it’s time to go home!”

He shrugged his shoulders, flashing a toothy smile before returning to the comfort of his ‘cozy’ café. I watched him leave, eyeballing the sashay of thin hips, the flutter of a well-laundered apron that never seemed to get dirty. I had discovered this café a few months after moving to London, the over-all atmosphere and its sassy owner was enough to keep me coming back.

Plus its coffee was pretty good too.

(I think he’s gay.) I frown and banish such thoughts.

It was time to go home.

I gather the books from the table, swiping off some crumbs before tucking them safely within the folds of my bag. By the time the last paper slipped (oh would you just fit!) into place, the bag was bulging, ready to burst. I secured its top only just… _just_ barely, the steel clasp straining to reach its goal.

Shouldering the weight, I throw down what was left of the cold coffee, and head home.

I lived approximately seven blocks from the café; from that point it was another four blocks to my school building. Or, the outlet that I just so happened to spend most of my time in, designated as the art sector. The apartment I lived in was nothing grand, pretty ran down really, but livable. The roof in the bathroom leaked during heavy storms (enough to fill one of my stew pots) and the windows might as well have been made of paper.

That was okay though, because the rent was cheap and some duck-tape was enough to save our heating bill. Scion had a friend on the lower level, so I guess that was good too.

(God it’s _cold!_ )

I shudder hard and grab at my coat, pulling it as close as it would go to my body.

The neighbors were quoting snow the previous week, now with Friday coming to a close I was glad they had been wrong. It would be my second (sort of) winter in England, if the tail end of the last one was anything to judge by – it would be a mad house. I pulled the absolute hardest on my coat and fought with the collar that had chosen then to fall.

By the time I climbed up the stairs and leaned against the front door, I was exhausted. I did not even want to make dinner, should have stopped by the store. I just wanted to fall down and go to sleep. I could hear Scion through the door, the sound of video-games louder than they should be on the television. I finally let myself in after the sound of someone coughing reached my ears.

It was only Leiland, Scion’s friend from below. They were both bent over the coffee table, munching on popcorn while, not a game, but a movie blared across the living room. Leiland kept cackling every time Jack Black got cornered by one of his nasty creations, I never did like the Goosebumps movie, and hearing it now only made my skin crawl. It did not scare me, it was just _that_ bad.

“Mom!” Scion cried after noticing me in the doorway. Leiland stopped mid-guffaw and stared at me with wide eyes, much like he had been caught doing something wrong.

“Hey baby, Goosebumps again?” 

He nodded his head vigorously, “Leiland’s never seen it, so we’re watching it.”

Leiland flushed and ducked his head, always such a humble boy, even when he knew he was perfectly welcome to relax. I was vaguely suspicious that he did not get much opportunity to do things like this at home, these normal, _boring_ every day things. His parents had spoken to me more than once about how Scion was “ _such a good influence on him!_ ” I frowned.

“Staying the night again Leiland?” I asked softly, hanging up my keys and shedding the heavy bag from my shoulders. They ached, so bad, and I shrugged.

“No miss Davney, not tonight-“ he shook his head and hesitated, eyes searching everywhere but my face before he went on “but… my parents aren’t home until later, can I- can- can-“

“Can he stay until then mom? They should be back around midnight!” Scion was such a kind boy, my heart bled watching him stick up for his friend. He knew I would never turn Leiland away, I could not bear to see the poor boy in such despair, nor’ could I let him go home without supervision.

“Sure, feel free to hang out until then Leiland.” I respond, directly to the blushing boy. He blushed harder. I turned back to Scion and ruffled his hair, so soft to touch, “have you guys eaten anything?”

I flipped on lights as I wandered to the kitchen, frowning a little at being reminded (everyday, ugh!) of just how small it was. I always did enjoy a big kitchen, where in the world was I supposed to put cookies when we had no counter space?

Cold.

The cheap linoleum was _freezing_.

“I made macaroni, is that okay?” Scion asked, following after me.

I smiled, “that’s perfect. Any leftovers?”

“No.” He said, even as I opened the refrigerator door to confirm it. There was _nothing_ in our fridge and it made my heart thump heavily. I would pick something up in the morning on the way to class, my mind chased after the idea of warm bagels and so much cream cheese I could not stand it. Mouth watering, I closed the door and sought out the saltines I know hid in the upper cabinets. I got paid in two days, the boys would have no choice but to survive on snack food until then, at which point I could be disappointed in knowing I had more of that, than actual food.

It was hard; there was no getting past that. Being a single mom on a single income (and not enough child support if you ask me), living in a foreign country, _and_ attending school, well… it sucked. It took everything I had to make sure that Scion was provided for, babysitter and all, even if it left me wanting more often than not. Somewhere along the line a family member had quoted those exact words to me, fast-forward seven years and I finally understood on a personal level.

Scion had dashed off back to the living… space, Leiland had relaxed back nto the couch, but ceased his raucous laughter.

Leiland, he was another story entirely.

Crunching saltines, I moved past them and their awful movie, and on to my room. There were two bedrooms, mine and Scion’s, and a bathroom connecting them. I hated sharing bathroom space more than anything, especially with a seven-year-old that still left skid-marks on the toilet seat in the early morning hours.

I opened the door to more cold.

Colder than the kitchen.

It gave me goose bumps and I shivered. Everything was as I had left it, evening dress draped across the bed, dirty clothes in the corner, art tools scattered across two different surfaces (and… yeah, that’s a paint bottle behind the closet door too), and make-up left conspicuously available. Scion had managed to keep his grubby paws off of things, again, this was three days in a row.

Suspicion flared in my gut.

But nothing was out of place, not a darn thing. Everything had settled over with the same stiff chill that affected the air.

I set the package of crackers on the dresser, a large, darkly painted oak thing. Heavy as sin too. First goes my shirt, exposing skin that puckered and tightened against the – insufferable – cold. I slipped on a pajama top and went for the bottoms next, causing even more scandal until I crawled beneath the nest of quilts atop my bed. It was one of the few things I took true pride in, my California King sized bed, straight from America and paid for by my own working hand. Of course I had to have an equally fantastic bed-set for it, smoothing trembling palms over the distressed, black octopus staring up at me from the top. It had matching sheets and pillows too!

The saltines stared at me from across the room (it’s not _really_ that far) and I warred over whether to get up and fetch them. The Cold teased at what I did have peeking over top of the covers, putting up a good argument against needing the salty food.

In the end I sighed and clapped my hands, sending the lights off. A hazy pink glow radiated from my bed-side, revealing the worn lamp on my night stand to double as a nightlight, accentuated by the soft, pink fleece I had wrapped around its wide shade.

Leiland had deemed it safe to be loud again, making my heart ache.

With thoughts of Scion and bagels, dancing in my mind’s eye, I fell asleep.


	2. Late.

It was bitter and cold.

Every part of me screamed in complaint, the small sliver of cheek I could not hide all but burned beneath the onslaught of the morning chill. Despite wearing every piece of thermal clothing I owned, including one of those nifty face wraps (got it for three bucks at Goodwill!), I still ached. The temperature ate right through the gloves I wore, seeping into every nook and cranny it could find.

This was one of those rare times when my boss called me up at four in the morning, asking if I could come in to cover for someone because _“Melissa’s mum is in hospital and might not make it.”_ Anyone in their right mind knew that Melissa’s _mum_ was in the hospital more than she lived at home. Just like they knew that her _mum_ was a melodramatic crab that had more black ‘medical’ flags to her name than anyone I had ever heard of.

‘ _She might not make it_ ’ held a special spot in my head as I forged onward through the icy kiss of a winter morning. I knew Melissa’s mother had some real health problems, but I also knew that she missed a lot of work because her mother was… oh, she had that, OH! She was a-

My brain was properly short-circuiting as I rounded the corner, the street before me opened up to reveal the public face of my café. Mr. Cozy could be seen bustling about inside, bussing tables and chatting with those few early risers that always stopped by. This was not a normal hour for me to be here, but I had the strangest feeling about moving on without snagging a cup of my normal coffee. My feet were quick to carry me across the street, desperation flowing through me like a river.

I wanted nothing more in that moment than to _not_ be cold.

The orange lighting looked warm, inviting, Mr. Cozy laughed, and I could see the steam curling away from somebody’s coffee.

It felt like forever, the foggy tendrils of morning grabbed at my clothes, making my progress seem so much less until finally, _finally_ – I pushed the door open. Mr. Cozy turned to welcome the new guest and was of course, shocked. I was not a morning person, and when I did happen to crawl my way in, it was never _this_ early. I risked a look at my watch, pushed back three layers of clothes to read the misty hands. Five-forty, I could not stay long.

“Hi Mr. Cozy,” I mumble through my face-mask.

He bid his patrons a good morning and strode over, shaking his head in pleasant surprise.

“Well if I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I’d never believe it!” His tone was incredulous, even as he pulled a notepad from his back-pocket, wielding his trusty pen like a wand. “What can I get you trooper?”

Thank goodness he seemed to have picked up on my intentions.

“The usual please, to-go.” I pulled down my mask, breathing warm air into shriveled lungs for as long as I could. I knew it would not be too long before I got to work; it was closer to the café than school  was, just down a different road.

Mr. Cozy walked away scribbling, murmuring what sounded like ingredients to himself.

It took no longer than five minutes.

The cup was hot and my fingers tingled as I tentatively stole it from the man’s grasp. I paid my due and made a quick, sloppy bow of my head. Mr. Cozy grinned so big I wondered for the nth time how he managed to keep it all on his face.

“Thank you Mr. Cozy.”

“Have a good day sugar!”

Mr.Cozy was one of the few people I knew – since I had moved to England – as more than just Mr/Mrs. Last Name. His name is Caspian Bell; he is forty-four and recently married to a pretty young man I called ‘Caesar’ (so I wasn’t wrong, lol).

Caesar and Caspian met during a holiday in Jamaica four years prior, a tale which Mr.Cozy was always glad to share with anyone that asked. Albeit in far more detail than anyone ever wanted to hear it.

I waved and smiled at the man before flipping my mask back up, I cringed against the cold, that had not in fact finished melting away while standing in the foyer. It slipped right back into place as I crossed my arms and set forth against the bitter wind.

* * *

“Did ya hear ‘bout Meredith?”

I had not even gotten the chance to take off my gloves before I was ambushed by too much make-up and gaudy fashion.

“What?” I ask, startled as much as irritated, slipping off my gloves and setting to work on the rest of this ridiculous ensemble. “She’s in the hospital isn’t she?”

“She’s dead!”

“ _What_!?” As cold as they were, my fingers halted mid-zip and I faced the dark woman, expression contorted in horrified surprise. Suddenly my phone vibrated and I did not bother to answer, it could only be one thing.

“Yeah! She died like, an hour ago. Freak aneurysm got the old bat.” The woman gushed, her red lipstick and pale foundation clashed terribly with her skin tone, I almost felt bad that something so petty made me cringe in lieu of the news “heard Melissa won’t be in for the next week!”

That was terrible news, honestly _terrible_ news. I was not sure what affected me more, Meredith actually being dead or the realization that my boss would be looking my way to fill in for Melissa. Her unexpected call made a lot more sense as I shed the heavy winter coat from my shoulders, jerking at the flannel scarf around my neck. Maybe I tugged it harder than I needed to, but as the room temperature soaked into my bones I found it easier to express my dismay over the whole situation. Jewel was beside herself, all fluttering hands and touching her hair.

“Who do you think the Boss is gonna call in?” She asked as my eyebrow twitched. “I _really_ hope she doesn’t plan on askin’ me, I got better things to do than spend more time than I have to here! Oh Ami did I tell you? James asked me to _marry_ him this weekend!!” I leaned back as she shoved a hand into my face, pressing a diamond ring so close to my mouth I was worried it might actually touch me.

(Dear God that is the ugliest fucking ring I have _ever_ seen.)

Good ole’ Jewel, a woman just died and she was already on to the next topic of discussion.

Her ugly ass ring! “Congrats I guess. Did he at least get down on one knee?” I asked in as gentle a tone as I could manage. Jewel made almost every aspect of her personal life everyone else’s business, that included the awful way her on and off again boyfriend treated her. Nobody liked hearing about it, but nobody had the balls to tell her off, least of all me.

Just last week she had supposedly sent him and his bags packing.

Now they were engaged.

And a woman just died.

I did not like Jewel.

“Ooooooh girl! He did more than that! He-“

I zoned her out, standing up from the step to hang up my things in my designated spot. She was still rambling, even as I stepped up and headed off for the elevator. On normal time work did not start for another two hours, but as of four o’clock this morning, my shift began in fifteen minutes. Jewel followed me into the elevator, mouth running as fast as it could about her now fiancé had so graciously afforded her tickets to a Shakira concert!

All the while my mind was racing around the fact that Melissa would be gone for the next week, scratch that – two weeks – and I had the worst feeling in my stomach over it. How would I handle classes? I had two morning classes that put me in twilight hours during the week; I could not afford to switch blocks right now.

There was a bare sliver of possibility that I might be able to exchange blocks for my Computer Tech II, but Illustration was out of the question, Mrs. Fowell would have a royal fit. The elevator came to a stop and Jewel pushed past me onto the floor, crying something to someone in the farther right sector of offices.

Another day at the office.

Who would have thought I would end up working in a cubicle, stuffed in a corner alongside a maze of tiny offices while my brain turned to mush in front of a screen. I had made a point of avoiding office jobs like this back home; evading them with what I thought was expertise. Now it looked more like selfishness, the frantic desire to retain what freedom I had from such a closed, stuffy space.

Of course it would be the only sort of job to hire me in another country, just my luck.

In reality I discovered it to be no more distracting, nor’ dramatic than any of my previous jobs. It was equally infested with the right kind of slime that wanted nothing more than to watch the world burn. This morning though I could imagine every floor from one to nine was buzzing with excitement, someone’s _mum_ had just died after-all, something new!

Somewhere an intercom crackled to life and the Bosses voice invaded the clamor.

With a pivot I turned a few corners and sighed into my designated swivel chair, bones groaned and toes curled as I remembered how uncomfortable they were. It was a wonder nobody had been off for crooked spines yet, or a broken neck at the angle the head-rest set.

Even from behind enclosed panels I could hear Jewel shrieking from across the way, bursts of laughter followed soon after. I looked up to the heavens and closed my eyes, breath slipping out with a relieved hiss. Whatever concern I might have had at being voted Melissa’s replacement was laid gratefully to rest.

My legs carried me as quickly as they could through the murky cold.

My eyes were on fire, lids squeezed down to try and avoid as much of the angry breeze as they could.

Work was over at three-thirty and my only class for the day started at four. I had fifteen more minutes to beat the bell, or be late as I had been for the last four days in a row. I was still unsure as to how I had managed to pull it off so… steadily. Unintentionally of course! I lived to be on time and the sheer idea of being late again was enough to send my legs into a burning job. I could not afford anymore tardies against my name.

Not that Mr. Bennet was terribly _worried_ about his late students; it was more of a personal endeavor. So when I turned a corner, I was not expecting to find another human being there waiting for me. I never was really, but there he was (oh yeah), and he was going fast enough to take me out when we collided.

The weight on my chest hurt, straight through to my ribs which felt much like they were going to be crushed. Seconds, could not have been more, passed in which the man pulled himself up, blathered apologies, and reached out for me. His hand was warm; it almost hurt against my own icy skin (sorry!) as he dragged my aching bones up from the ground.

“I am _so_ sorry, God that’s awful now look you’re all dirty!” He exclaimed, cheeks flushed and lips pursed.

Now keep in mind, the fantastic theory that _all_ British men are gentleman, is in fact a load of horse-shit.

I have met some of the worst people since being in England, and I have only been here for little under two years. It is honestly no different from America, just a few different laws, and an accent to throw you off. The same goes for the standing assumption that all British men are beautiful, elegant creatures carved from the Tree of Fertility. Also false, _very_ false, maybe not in this case but definitely false.

This guy was cute. He had that pretty face, sharp jaw-line, and kinky brown hair that just sort of fluttered against his cheeks. His eyes were blue, as blue as the sky during summer (at least back home) and if I had the time I would have gladly lost myself in them. But I did not, I was going to be late and unfortunately it was his fault.

And mine, but I would never admit it.

Not even as his features twisted and churned as he tried to come up with something that might appease my imaginary anger. I was not angry with him, but he seemed bent on the idea that I _might_ have been, twitching nervously.

“I- I’m sorry, really I am, can I… can I get you a coffee or something? Are you late somewhere?” He tripped so adorably over his accent… I shivered just so. On top of that he nursed a lisp that he struggled with more than anything, making it all the cuter if you asked me.

“No, no- I mean yeah, I’m late to class but it’s fine. Really!” I finally say, offering him an olive branch. “You know, I’d love a coffee but I don’t have time, you didn’t do anything wrong, and I’m sorry to run but I gotta go!” So I ran, putting up my best apologetic smile before taking off. I could swear I heard him shout, but I was late, and that sense of urgency was pressed firmly against my lapse of judgment. Yes he was good to look at and cute to boot, but I had no time for men, and most definitely no time for coffee!

Somewhere along the line I seemed to have forgotten the chill, for by the time I pushed huffing and puffing into the school building, my body tingled with warmth.

Yeah sprinting!

The clock on the wall read four thirty-four and I could feel a part of my pride shrivel up.

* * *

 

“Coat, coat!” I reminded him gently, holding out the object as Scion dashed back into the living room from the kitchen, a cracker bobbing from his lips. “Hurry!” I pressed.

The movie started in thirty minutes and we still had to walk several blocks. We were never late, but I really did have an obsession with being on time, or at least early. I had already been late once today, I refused to let it carry on into my day with Scion. He had run a brush through his hair and left some of it standing rather than lying back, I licked my fingers and teased it down. He shrugged into his coat and I zipped it faster than he could. The keys jangled as the door closed and I locked it. I still glanced back once or twice, trepidation flip-flopped in my gut despite knowing it was safe.

Old habits died hard I guess.

I was glad I had bundled him up because by the time we jogged the four blocks to the theater, Scion was all but a human-shaped jelly. He trembled and shook, teeth chattering (when is it going to start snowing?). 

We were going to see the new Justice League movie, the second one. It had been in theaters for almost a month now, but we waited until it came to a smaller screen nearby before going to see it. Going to the movies was the same as seeing it in America, expensive.

Scion was so excited despite the chill, warming up far faster than I did. He immediately began to chatter, he talked until the trembling left his jaw, replaced with bright-eyed expectation as we stood in line for popcorn. It was small moments like this that I was grateful we enjoyed the same theater food, because we were complete opposites in almost everything else.

He was such an outgoing, sometimes invasive personality. Abrasive but genial in a way that touched people’s hearts, nobody disliked Scion, he could even coax the hardest people out of their shells. I spent a lot of time wondering how I ever managed to give birth to such a trooper, this tough little boy who resembled more of his father every day. I was sure glad for that, his father was a hunk, even though his character was trash. No… my little boy was the apple of my eye, I did what I could in regards to providing him with everything he needed, and wanted if the money was there. Some claimed I should not strive to spoil him, but I do not believe I did much spoiling. If buying an extra toy car could put a smile on my boy’s face, then no, I do not count that as ‘spoiling’.

He was my pride and joy, what kind of mother would I be if I did not let him know it?

We both munched on the popcorn before we even got to the theater. We picked seats at the very top in the far back that would give us the best picture. Scion practically vibrated with joy, face glued back into the widest smile I had ever seen.

No.

I do not think I would ever be able to sacrifice that.

Never again.


	3. The Cube.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to warn you all ahead of time: most of, it not all of these, will be un-beta'd. I'm trying to skim it before uploading but, I'll probably go over the _whole_ thing after it's completed and fix things. Unless it's just really that bad lol (unless some kind, loving soul wants to do it for me? *cough*)

“But that doesn’t seem fair, if Lily had a part in the making of the Cube, than she should be credited too.” April clicked her pen against the desk top with veiled irritation, glancing around the gathered students involved in their particular group. “I mean, even if by chance let’s say… Harry got away with publishing the piece and not giving her a cut, it wouldn’t fly, it’s not plausible writing when there are laws in place to specifically prevent things like that from happening. And I’m not trying to be technical, but this is trash.” She pursed her lips with a sense of finality, dropping her pen for short measure.

That was all it had taken for the whole group to go up in flames, and that included me.

We had all spoken out in heated discussion about how April seemed to have decided she was project lead, even though we had previously voted on (including April, the little hussy) Prem. He had a better head on his shoulders about detail when it came to the puzzle of getting something published, which was our chosen assignment. We had been working on it as a team for several months now, all of us contributing to create a little book we had lovingly dubbed ‘the Cube”.

April apparently thought she was better suited than Prem, which was becoming more and more apparent the closer to the end we got.

It was about to drive everyone mad.

Calling the Cube trash, openly!

I grumbled into the steaming cup of coffee Mr. Cozy had delivered to my table (“Oh honey, you should sit inside in this weather!”). His geniality was enough to draw a smile from between the sheets of frustration and stress wrapped around my head.

I stared absently at the off-white canvas setting on the table in front of me. I had stopped by England’s equivalent of the ‘Dollar Store’ after class, having decided I needed a productive way to express my anger. I started out drawing after-all, so many years toiling over silly little pieces under the light of a flashlight in the dark. I remembered erasing more than an anything, developing a very perfectionist light on things the older I got.

Now it was so bad that drawing or painting of any kind was overly difficult.

It was hard looking at my imperfect style of things. It was so… messy, all over the place and just plain awful. The people who happened to see always said it was great, said it looked like something out of a movie! But all I heard was the drop of my heart in the bottom of my shoes as I wished it was better.

Even I had to admit that I was getting harder and harder to please.

“Is this seat taken?”

A man’s voice dragged me back to the surface of reality, but only just, I peeked over the edge of my cup to see who dared intrude on my privacy.

Whoever he was he was hot. At least he looked as hot as he was going to get in the dark, the city lights reflected off his coat and beanie, dancing across the sunglasses he sported. Well… I assumed he was hot, there was very little to see beneath the whole get-up, making a true assessment impossible. Still, it warmed my toes a bit as he stood patiently, fingers pressed against the chilly table top as he waited for a response.

He wanted to sit at my table?

With me?

I glanced around then, eyeing all the other tables available to him and could not help a grimace. Why did he have to share mine? Why did he have to share at all? It was an immediate reaction that I struggled to temper. This was my time alone, but I did not want to be rude… he could sit if he well pleased.

I flushed hard and reluctantly gestured that he sit.

He did, and a sense of dread pooled in my gut.

The man frowned himself at how cold the empty seat was, but quickly turned his face back to me. I tried to hide mine behind the lid of my coffee, inhaling the steam which was barely more than a wisp at this point. He smiled and the dread in my gut turned to all out war with my brain.

There was no reason for me to stay, my thoughts kept flashing back to the man who ran into me before class, he did offer me a drink did he not? But this was not the same guy; this man – at least from what I could see – was tall and his coat seemed to hang from his shoulders, it was hard to tell in shadow, but I wanted to say he was a red-head.

“Did I interrupt anything?” He asked suddenly, forcing my eyes back to his face. “Would you mind if I used my laptop?”

I had not even answered the first question, so I nodded my head, letting my gaze fall back to the canvas. As it was in most situations like this, it was hard for me to focus on anything but the stranger sharing my space, I obsessed over it. A large part of me wanted to look up and just start talking, throw out some random conversation, anything to break the tension building in my shoulders. Instead I ducked as far into my flannel scarf as I could, and avoided any form of eye contact.

He did not seem to mind, whipping out one of those nifty three-sixty degree notebook things, possibly an HP from the cover. The light of the screen illuminated, albeit badly, some of his features below the line of his glasses.

Freckles, this man’s face was littered in them, handsome orange-brown freckles and… probably the funniest mouth I had ever seen. It was not necessarily a bad mouth, but I suspected it was an acquired taste. The tuft of hair sticking out from under the dark beanie was not red; I figured it was more of a deep auburn in the right light. The man had completely zoned me out, long fingers tapped away at the keyboard.

I suppose that was my cue.

I wasted no time packing. After holstering the canvas I dropped the pencils into a random pocket, and when I turned around I was just in time to catch him watching me. Well, I thought he was watching me. His face was shifted in my direction and he had stopped typing.

“Going?” He queried gently, he had lost that edge to his voice from a few minutes ago.

My mind filled with images I was less than proud of and I swiveled around before he could see me blush.

“Uh, yeah.” I mumbled a hasty good-night and headed home, leaving the unsettling encounter behind me.


	4. David.

“I hope I didn’t upset you last night?”

I all but spit the coffee I had just sipped, right back out. I choked instead, coughing into the crook of my elbow. A million and one thoughts raced through my head as I looked up through bleary eyes at the man from the night before. The exact same one, except this time it was not dark yet and he wore a different coat, this one fit better.

He looked genuinely concerned for a split second before shifting to sit in the seat opposite me.

“I wasn’t sure if you were doing anything important and I know it was late, so, I’m sorry if I intruded…” He was keeping his voice low, veiled. “Is it okay if I join you again?”

Surely by now my peepers were as wide as tea plates, they felt like it. My eyebrows seemed to have disappeared into my hairline. This was… most unprecedented. In the afternoon light I could say for sure that I had never seen this man before, a complete stranger, and he had decided that I was worthwhile company. There were several other patrons enjoying the momentary lapse in weather, plenty of other random people to share a table with.

I nodded slowly, “I guess…”

He settled into the chair with a smile that pulled that strange mouth apart.

“Right, I’m Eddie, what’s your name?” He started before I had a chance to put myself together. Though I guess it was not a terrible thing, asking for my name.

But I was startled so startled by his presence that I hesitated.

“Ah, Amelia.” I replied quietly, “nice to meet you.”

That only made his smile bigger and I had the strangest impression of the whole thing falling off his face. People with wide smiles had always been a source of second-hand embarrassment for me, their mouths were _so_ long. His was not so long as to be unattractive, but I would have liked to censor his obvious excitement some. It was unnerving to know that someone I had never met was so glad to see me.

“Amelia, that’s pretty, prettier than Eddie for sure!” If he had not worn sunglasses again I would assume his eyes were dancing. “Where are you from?” he moved on in one smooth motion.

The spotlight was coming and I could see it a mile away, he was going to engage _conversation_ , and I was not at school or work. This was a major breach of protocol, a massive no-no that I needed to stop right now! There was none of this casual chit-chat where some form of professional undertone was not concerned, this was _my_ time for me, myself, and I.

“The U.S., but I guess that’s kinda obvious.” I supplied.

“Well yeah, but _where_ in the U.S. are you from I mean?” He pressed, leaning forward on the table.

Oh.

“Oh, Kansas. Born and raised.” I shrugged then because it was nothing special; my roots were corn, soybean, and tractors as far as the eye could see. He took on a look of curiosity and it made my heart thump, I hoped I was reading his expressions right.

“You know, I’ve never actually visited Kansas before, but I’ve flown over it.” He mused, voice dropping into a laid-back baritone that nearly stopped my breathing. “My agent always said it was nothing to look at, s’that true?” Another question.

“Yeah, mostly, lot’s of corn, and soy, and farmland… and highway.” Which was true enough.

Kansas was pretty in its own right, but I firmly believed it was an acquired taste (like his mouth). There were a fair amount of teens that either wanted to stay or get the hell out of dodge by the time high school finished. It usually tipped one way or the other, depending on that year.

“So I guess you travel a lot?” I inquired gently.

Oh no, I… I asked him a question. It had to be that infectious smile; my stomach knotted itself into oblivion.

“Eh… more than I’d like to be honest. But all the places I’ve been are relatively nice and just _beautiful_ to look at. Even the cities, there’s something magical about being in a strange city, especially at night.” I had apparently opened a floodgate, for he gushed, and I was mesmerized by the way his lips moved. “Have you ever been to San Francisco?” He flipped the tables again, directing the focus back on me.

I wanted to curl into a ball and disappear. 

“No, the farthest I’ve ever been is Texas.” I replied bluntly, “And I guess here, pretty sure another country counts.”

He laughed, and Mr. Cozy chose then to notice his new customer. I was glad, _grateful_ for his intervention, sending him the most helpless, desperate look I could manage without tipping off… erm, Eddie.

“Well _hello_ handsome! Haven’t seen you before so introductions!” Cozy beamed, waving his pen dramatically through the air. “I’m Mr. Cozy and this is my café, oh! And this is Amelia, sweetest angel on this _whole_ entire planet!” He added with a well aimed wink in my direction. Scratch curling into a ball, I wanted to die. Eddie looked pleasantly amused, glancing between Mr. Cozy and I.

“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you… uh, Mr. _Cozy_.” He replied slowly, taking the little plastic menu proffered to him.

“And isn’t it? Would you look at that face, do those freckles cover the _whole_ canvas honey?”

The man, Eddie, turned about as bright a shade of red as I had ever seen on a person.

It trailed all the way to his ears.

“Ah, well… yes, I suppose they do…” Anyone could read the level of embarrassment that practically radiated off of him. Mr. Cozy did a little dance in place, blew him a kiss, and sashayed back toward the café to make the man’s order. I did not remember him placing one.

“He’s- _eccentric_ isn’t he?” Eddie said as he tugged at the dark scarf around his neck. “Is the coffee at least any good?”

“Yeah,” I say with a nod of my head, using the moment to take a hefty mouthful of my own. It was cooling faster than I could drink it, and although I did not mind cold coffee, I had ordered this one with the intent of having it hot. “But he’s like that with everybody, don’t take it personally.” I added.

He coughed a small laugh, re-adjusting his glasses.

“And the coffee?”

I looked up, I had already forgotten.

“Oh, that too, it’s good.” Hopefully it was enough, for after taking that long-awaited swig I was desperate for more. The cold had been momentarily forgotten under scrutiny of a stranger, no doubt my digits suffered from the side-effects of heated dismay. Now though they were fairly thawed, leaving me susceptible to the effects of the weather once more.

Our neighbor had prattled on again about snow this week, tomorrow in fact. He said they called for several inches, which would successfully slow any progress I might have had toward getting to class or work on time. I could still feel the sting of disappointment at having been late the day before, and it was only worsened by the recent _pile_ of tardies before that. What other choice did I have than to take Scion out for some fun? If anything it managed to help my own web of anxiety, it forced me to think about anything but what was happening in the moment.

Plus I enjoyed the Justice League almost as much as Scion, so that was not so bad.

I was vaguely aware of activity, Mr.Cozy returning with Eddie’s drink, Eddie thanked him (I think).

Suddenly I was tired, more tired than I had been earlier.

It was time to go home.

“Leaving?” Eddie inquired, taking tentative sips of the steaming liquid in his hands.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m cold.” I glanced up while re-packing books.

A part of me wished he would take those glasses off, maybe move his hat back some and show some more neck. It was difficult to get a real read on him so hidden and mysterious. And maybe that was some of the charm that made me smile as he looked up from his drink.

“It’s not terrible.” He relented at last.

“Have a good day mister- “

“David, it’s David. But call me Eddie.” Even with only his mouth really visible, I could see his shoulders tense up and the muscles in his cheeks tightened with his smile.

“Have a good day… Mister Eddie.”

Perhaps I was not the best candidate to be teasing some guy I had just met, but seeing him so uncomfortable was enough to construct a small blossom of endearment in my heart. Some of the stiffness immediately left his shoulders, but that smile remained acutely fake. I hated it when people pretended, especially over something so petty. Then again, who was I to judge? For all I knew he was a wanted man by the police. That would give anyone reason to be nervous.

Still, I felt more like he was over-reacting than hiding and it was enough to temper the faint stamp of attraction trying it wind its way into my brain.

He was just some guy after all.

* * *

 

Scion was asleep when I got home, curled up on the couch, mumbling into the cushions.

Evening was nigh, the barest of sunlight yet filtered in through the slit blinds. I dropped my bag onto the floor and hung up my keys, following routine for the sake of comfort. The events of the last two days played through my mind. I stood in the living room, staring at the wall.

The man I ran into on the way to school and his adorable lisp.

The man at the café with the funny mouth.

Eddie.

Eddie David.

My thoughts threaded back to the past several days, being late to school, work, and everything else. Fingers clenched and I fought back the beginning of tears. Our entire life was reliant on my ability to stay focused and in control. It was my responsibility and for the first time since setting foot in this… _God_ forsaken country – I had let go. Only for a minute and my mind had wandered off. I had allowed not one but _two_ people to invade my head, gifted myself the selfishness needed to think about someone other than myself and my son.

That was the sort of thing that hurt people, hurt their goals, and ruined intentions.

I had put too much work and too much time into this endeavor to let it fall apart now, I needed to correct this sore lack of judgment before I got us wrapped up in something we did not need.

I laughed out loud.

Here I was, in my head things were already ruined, when in reality they had barely begun.


End file.
